


Circuits and Cerebral Alignments

by Italics



Category: Pokemon
Genre: AU, Darkfic, Gen, Mind Screw, Multi, Other, Sci-Fi, crackfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-02-20
Updated: 2011-03-31
Packaged: 2017-10-15 19:20:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/164124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Italics/pseuds/Italics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ash Ketchum is just some ordinary kid. He's nice and polite. He's best friends with a jerk named Gary Oak. He likes that Pokemon web franchise. But, of course, all that normality won't stop a shady organization or two from making his life...very, very strange.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Operetta No. 1: PRELUDE

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: copious amounts of crack; strange ship teases; weird widgets; unfortunate accidents; screwy goals and ideas; and a paralyzing pile of steaming Gary Oak. Oh yeah, and a bunch of cursing.

**PRELUDE**

 

 

  
**♫♪♫♪♫**   


  
Ash wasn't an idiot. He knew how much two plus two was (ahem... _four_ ), he knew what type of animal a dolphin was (a...mammal?), and he knew how to rub his stomach while patting his head—and without cheating, at that. He could recite a passage of _Hamlet_ from memory ("To be or not to be: that is the _question!_ "), and he could even type out a few words on a keyboard without looking down. He wasn't the smartest kid on the block (that was Gary), but he wasn't the fool he was made out to be.  
      
When his mother told him he was to go to a "special school" for kids like him, he knew immediately that the results of that IQ test had come in. And while he tried to cover for himself and say it had been a bad day when he took the test, his mother would not under any circumstances tell him how low he'd scored. All she let slip was that the score was dictating where he would go to high school after the summer.  
      
For once in his life, Ash Ketchum was afraid for himself.

  
**♫♪♫♪♫**   


  
The uniform came in a week later.

Ash was mortified. The package included a tie (which he couldn't tie), a blazer (which made him look like a nerd), two dress shirts with buttons (he had a hard time with buttons), and two black dress pants, all of which were a size too big for him. When he put it on for his mother, he could see from a mirror that he looked very, very stupid. It reminded him of when he was small and dressed up to look older.

Of course, his mother absolutely loved it. "You look so much like your father," she would say whenever he complained. When he pointed out how Dad had never looked like a thirteen-year-old in an over-sized school uniform, she would say, touching a cheek with her hand, "Well, he wasn't that impressive to look at until he turned seventeen." And Ash would have nothing to say, because that was as far as he knew his mom would talk about him.

  
**♫♪♫♪♫**   


  
In any case, despite his reluctance to wear such fancy, useless clothes, his mother forced him to wear it during the ritual "visiting the neighbors" routine that a small town like Pallet encouraged. Their neighbors, the Oaks, were high-class, upstanding citizens. As he and his single mother were rather poor and lower on the scale, they had to dress up as fancy as they could. His new uniform was currently the best thing he had in his closet.

Gary, unsurprisingly, teased him about it when Mrs. Ketchum and Gary's mother, grandmother, and grandfather took to the living room to have tea and finger sandwiches.

"What's with the clothes?" asked Gary with a grin. "Trying to look stupider?"

Ash crossed his arms. "They're my new uniform. Mom made me wear them."

Gary gave him a once-over and laughed. "Your jacket's inside out."

"No, it's not!" said Ash indignantly. "It's supposed to be like this!"

Gary smirked, shrugged, and went to his computer. They were in his room; after some small talk with Grandpa Oak and his family, the two boys had been sent off to do something that wouldn't disturb the adults. While Ash loathed Gary at times, he knew that his room was the jackpot for entertaining, high-tech stuff—all expensive, of course. He had a laptop, a computer for his desk, several hand-held consoles, several home consoles, two cameras, a whole chemistry set, a couple of remote-controlled robot animals, and a virtual gaming helmet; the overall cost had to be over fifteen-hundred dollars and counting.

Ash followed him, watching as Gary booted up his desktop and went online, typing something called "Pokemon" into a search engine.

"What's that?" asked Ash, suddenly curious, pointing at the monitor. "Is that the name of a band or something?"

Gary snorted. "No, _Ashy-boy_ , it's not."

"How was I supposed to know?" Ash growled.

"By waiting for me to tell you," said Gary, smirking. "But I don't think I will now."

 _Ashy-boy_ was the nickname Gary used whenever he thought Ash was being stupid, either accidentally or on purpose. At the age of four, Ash (or rather, Ashton) had picked up some cinders from the Oak fireplace during one visit. "What's this?" he'd asked Gary. "Candy," Gary'd replied, and with that confirmation, in front of his mother and Gary's grandparents, he'd swallowed down the whole handful. While he was coughing up the foul-tasting dirt, Gary had fallen to the floor, clutching his stomach from laughter, shrieking, "Ashy-boy! Ashy-boy!" From then on, Ashton had been Ash.  

"Oh, c'mon!"

"I don't know...." Gary pretended to rub his chin thoughtfully. "You aren't mature enough, I think. Maybe when you get some hair on your face...."

"You don't have any either!" Ash pointed at Gary's own smooth chin.

"But I'm older than you, so I _know_ I'm mature enough." That was true—Gary was older by three months and taller by four inches. He'd used those two facts to rule over Ash throughout their childhood.

"C'mon, Gary, you're only older because you were impatient in your mom's stomach. C'mon, just tell me what 'Pokemon' is!"

Gary rolled his eyes at Ash's method of persuasion, but nevertheless scooted himself to the side so Ash could see the whole monitor as well. On the screen was a picture of a small device, one that was shaped like a ball. It was red on top and white on the bottom, and dividing the two colors cleanly in half was a black line. Sitting smack-dab in the middle of the device was a screen, and underneath it were three white buttons.

" _That's_ a Pokemon?" asked Ash.

Gary swatted his hand at Ash's face. " _No_ , you idiot, it's called a Poke Ball, and that's what you hold a Pokemon in. It holds one Pokemon each, and you can use it to interact with them."

"Oh," said Ash, frowning. "Okay, but what's a Pokemon then?"

He sighed. "You're a dumbass, honestly."

"Well, then you're a—a dumbass teacher!"

Gary pushed him to the side. "Move over. I need to reach the keyboard." He typed "Pokemon" into the search engine again, and the first result that came up was a video article. They watched as a pretty blonde woman stood outside a store with a microphone in hand. A long line that seemed to stretch on forever came from the door of the store.

"It appears Pokemon fever has reached an insane degree now with the new Poke Ball device out in stores," said the reporter. "Released only a few days ago, the Poke Ball is able to connect to the main Pokemon site. The head designer of the Poke Ball has said that its accessibility and its light-weight design will be perfect for those who have no time to take care of their Pokemon stuck in the computer.

"Pokemon, virtual monsters that you can buy and play with on the web, have become the It product of Kanto. From high-tech robots to furry little rabbits, Pokemon appeals to every type of person imaginable. Now, with an affordable, portable device, will Pokemon's popularity escalate to new heights?"

There were several people, a couple of adults and a few kids, who were standing around the reporter, smiling and waving at the camera. At the reporter's urging, they shouted, " _Yes!_ " and raised up all their own Poke Balls at the camera.

The reporter smiled. "By this crowd's answer, only a nuclear war may threaten Pokemon's popularity. Until next time, I'm Gabby Roxanne reporting from Silph Co., Saffron. Back to Oli."

Gary turned to Ash. "You figured it out now, Ashy-boy?"

Ash furrowed his eyebrows. "Not really."

"Dumbass."

"Hey! I just didn't get what she meant with the 'robots and rabbits' thing."

Gary sighed and muttered, "How you even got into school is a mystery to me."

Before Ash could protest, Gary typed in something, punched it in, and from out of nowhere came a pop-up screen. On the screen was a furry fox-like thing, brown everywhere except its neck, where there was a white muzzle that would put Santa Claus to shame.

"What's that?" asked Ash.

"A Pokemon," replied Gary in an exasperated voice. "Mine. It's an Eevee."

Without anymore provocation, Ash shoved his face closer to the screen, shouting, "Gary, look at it! It's sorta cute, but it's not, it looks like your terrier and its ears are really weird, and it looks so _real_ —" Ash turned to Gary, grinning. "It's like it's _breathing_."

Gary seemed amused by Ash's reaction. "Well, duh. It's _supposed_ to look real. That's how the company that makes them gets money. People are suckers for cute."

"I can see why, I mean, look at it, its eyes are huge and brown and its nose looks like it's twitching and wet and it's blinking and scratching itself behind the head—" His words were so quick that Gary could barely register them.

"Yeah, I get that you like it. Now _get off_." He pushed Ash off him; while trying to get a closer look at the Eevee, Ash had almost completely taken over the chair, forcing Gary closer to the floor. "Your ten minutes are up. My Pokemon, my rules."

Ash, eager to see the many processes of maintaining a Pokemon, stood beside Gary's chair obediently as he was shown how to brush an Eevee's coat (with circular strokes on the brown fur, but downwards with the white), how to feed it (either buying some Pokemon food from the online store, or learning how to hunt using a minigame on the arcade), and how to teach it tricks, like sitting down, or rolling over, or getting it to give its paw for a treat.

But most importantly, there was learning how to battle. After all, as Gary explained, how else was a trainer (someone who owned a Pokemon, Ashy-boy) to get money for food? Sure, there were contests and musicals and smaller minigames to try your luck in, but really, the only way to get any notoriety was to defeat anyone you could fight, get half their money, and invest your earnings in battle items (like vitamins and equipment) and battle some more. There were tournaments, whether official or fan-made, that could be won, and the winner usually got a new, rare Pokemon and tons of money. The more well-known you were, the more people would donate Poke-Dollars (the virtual currency) to you and your Pokemon.

"How do you battle?" asked Ash, enthralled. "Is it like those fighting games?"

"Yeah," replied Gary, who seemed to thrive on all the attention he was getting, "but _much_ cooler. Instead of having to press all those buttons just to get one thing to happen, you teach your Pokemon how to use these natural powers they have called 'moves,' and then they use things like fire and water and electricity and ESP and use it all against other Pokemon. The greatest thing about these battles is that it's all hands-off—it's all up to how well you raised your Pokemon and how much effort you put into it."

" _Wow_ ," Ash breathed. He sank to the floor, his hands shaking. "I really want a Pokemon now."

Gary peered down at Ash. "You know, it's free. To get a Pokemon, I mean. Well, not really, you've got to pay a dollar to sign up as a trainer on the site, but that isn't too much. But you need one of the newer touchscreen computers to do anything."

Like that, Ash was up in a flash. " _Only a dollar?_ " he nearly screamed. "I can pay that! We've got a older model, but it's still a touchscreen—and—and—I can get any Pokemon I want?" he asked, rounding on Gary.

"Not any," corrected Gary. "What I meant to say was, signing up is only a dollar, but getting a Pokemon like an Eevee costs around, what...three thousand Poke-Dollars? I got my Eevee from raising up a good team and winning a few tournaments." His chest visibly swelled. "I got a thousand just with my Pidgeot alone."

"Oh, okay," said Ash, his enthusiasm returning. "Then what Pokemon can I get?"

"It depends on where you log in. Silph Co. lined up the Pokemon world with our own, so that what you can catch depends on where you live. I don't know, I think you can catch a Nidoran or something." Obviously feeling generous from being considered a veteran, Gary looked it up on the Pokemon site map. "From around Pallet, you can catch some Pidgey and Rattata, maybe a Mankey if you can somehow get a little closer to Viridian."

"Are they good?"

"Well, they aren't _horrible_ ," said Gary with a sniff. "They can always evolve, and like I said before, my Pidgeot was awesome wi—"

"Wait," interrupted Ash, puzzled. "What's 'evolving'?"

Gary sighed and put a hand on Ash's shoulder. "Ash, Ash, Ash," he tutted. "You have _much_ to learn."

  
**♫♪♫♪♫**   


  
The thoughts and ideas and plans and concepts were numerous and invading, lodging themselves deep into Ash's head as he absorbed knowledge from Gary. His embarrassment over his uniform and new school forgotten, he learned of the whole map of the virtual Pokemon world and how to travel it; with Eevee as a living example, he learned how to care for a Pokemon and how to teach them how to battle; under Gary's guidance, he learned of type charts, the way moves worked, and how to intimidate the opponent using psychological manipulation (a skill that Gary considered essential).

And somehow, to Ash, these things made more sense than all his arithemetic, language and history classes combined. How to time an attack just right, how to capture a wild Pokemon without any screw-ups, how to manipulate your voice in the microphone to tell a Pokemon what you meant when you said, "Use that rock!"...It all seemed more fascinating than anything he'd ever experienced. Why hadn't he learned of it before?

"Because you're an idiot from a small farming town," replied Gary when Ash explained all this to him. "And you're out of touch with machines. You used to run around and climb trees instead of doing your tech homework when we were in grammar school."

"Well, I never thought I'd need to," Ash said, frowning.

Soon, Ash had a habit of visiting Gary even on non-visit days. Once he finished small talk with Grandpa Oak, he would head up into Gary's room to see if he needed to learn anything else about Pokemon. He usually would, as Gary did not want him to, as he said, "Screw up your first Pokemon before you even get it." They studied meticulously the strategies and tactics of current tournament winners, whether they were from the official curcuit or fan-made ones, and they followed the _Official Pokemon Magazine_ religiously.

Sometimes, after a particularly hard quiz from a Pokemon magazine Ash failed, he and Gary would go outside with Gary's new Poke Ball that had come in the mail and use it to capture new Pokemon. Because it was portable, the Poke Ball allowed them to run around with Eevee and Gary's other Pokemon without the usual restrictions present on the desktop. This would occupy them for hours on end.

The summer came and went in those few months. More new devices were released for the Pokemon series: the Pokedex, the PokeGear, the PokeNav, the Poketch (which Gary was particularly fond of), and other things that had the prefix of "Poke." They looked up cheat codes for the more profitable minigames, and even once, despite Ash's inital ambivalence, they entered a contest they'd spent weeks washing and cleaning Eevee's coat for. They hadn't won, but the two were intrigued by the format and even brought up a Vulpix Gary had bought specifically for contests.

It was an awesome summer, in Ash's opinion, one that he would miss once he went to that "special school" his mother had enrolled him in. He convinced Gary to look up the school on the web, to check what it was like—but all they knew was that it was a school up in Saffron City, that its average student population was at least two hundred per grade, and that it was a boarding school, and a renowned one at that.

That tingling feeling Ash had felt before crept down his spine when he read that it was school meant for a "certain type of student." He wondered what type he was to be admitted there.

However, he easily forgot his fears when Gary declared that he was ready for his first Pokemon.

  
**♫♪♫♪♫**   


  
The routine had been normal enough that day, which was exactly a week before his send-off to Saffron. He went over to the Oak residence, rang the bell, waited for a moment, went up the stairs, talked to Grandpa Oak, and finally came to Gary's room. Like normal, Gary was lying on his bed perusing the latest edition of a Pokemon fanzine, knocking his knees together absent-mindedly. Ash knocked on the door like usual, and Gary looked up, like usual.

But Gary's expression was anything but normal.

"It's time," he said with a solemn face, laying the magazine on the bed. He stood up. "It's time."

"What do you mean?" asked Ash, furrowing his eyebrows.

"It's time," he repeated, but then added, "It's time for... _it_. For that."

Ash blinked. "What?"

Gary, breaking his sagely expression, rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Honestly, when I'm trying to play up the moment you just kill it. Idiot. Anyway," he said, regaining his composure, "you've finished your training with me. You're ready."

Immediately comprehension filled Ash's face, and he let loose a radiant grin. "You think?"

 "I know. I _know_." He pulled Ash to the computer and sat him down on the chair. "It's time for you to begin. You got the money?"

"Well, I've got a few coins and some lint in my pocket—"

"You've got a full dollar's worth?"

"Yeah—"

"Hand it here. I'll take your money, and I'll give up my own dollar."

Ash produced his coins; Gary swiped them from his hands, and then inserted his dollar into the desktop's money slot.

"I always wondered how those work," mused Ash.

"Don't think too hard; you might hurt yourself," Gary muttered, tapping furiously at the screen, pressing various buttons that popped up suddenly. Without warning, the sound of paper being shredded hit Ash's ears.

"Oh," he murmured.

"Okay, we did the money part, so we have to fill in the required fields, and you're done." Gary looked down at him seriously. "Don't screw this up."

Ash frowned at him, but made sure to be careful when pressing the "Male" option on the screen. Once that was done, the next option came: "What is your birthday?" He put it down. Then came another question: "What is your e-mail address?" He put that one down, too. Finally, it said, "Please hold still as we take a registration photo."

"Wait, what?" asked Ash in alarm. "What are they talking abou—"

There was a _snapping_ sound, and when Ash could see clearly, there was his face, eyes wide and jaw hanging open mid-word, sitting on the screen.

"Oops. Forgot to tell you about that," said Gary nonchalantly. "They take photos for just-in-case situations. Nothing too bad."

"But why didn't you tell me—!"

"Because you look nice and stupid in that photo," said Gary with a snicker. He pointed at the screen. "Next part."

On the screen was another command: "Please type out your full name. Nicknames accepted." Ash quickly typed it in.

"What is your greatest strength?" it finally asked.

Ash blinked. "What does that mean? 'What's my greatest strength....'"

Gary peered over his shoulder. "Huh. Guess they added in another question. Probably had trouble with some bots or something. I don't know, just type something in."

Ash thought for a moment. What _was_ his greatest strength? It wasn't intelligence or common sense, he was sure, and while he was an active guy, he wasn't a star athlete or anything. He was stubborn, he could say, but his mom always said stubborness depended on the person—on one person, it could be a strength, while on another it could be a flaw. He didn't really have a passion for any hobby in particular....He was determined, he guessed, but he figured everyone was determined in their own way.

Without thinking, his fingers typed in the word "Pokemon" and pressed Enter.

  
**♫♪♫♪♫**   


  
The monitor went completely black. Ash looked at Gary, who raised an eyebrow and shook his head. Whatever was happening wasn't something he had expected.

 _ **Hello.**_ The word was slowly typed onto the screen by invisible hands.

"Holy—" Gary's curse was cut short by Ash punching him on the arm and pointing at the screen.

 _ **You are Ash Ketchum. Is this true?**_ asked the invisible typist.

"W-Wha...?" Ash looked at Gary. "What sh-should I say?"

Gary shrugged, his eyes stuck to the screen.

Ash reluctantly pressed the Enter key. The words disappeared from the monitor. After a long, tense moment, when nothing else appeared, the two let out a sigh.  
 _ **  
Welcome to the World of Pokemon!**_ the screen suddenly said.

And like that, their paranoia left them. Gary even managed to laugh.

"It's just a system update to the thing," he said giddily. "It's some kinda tutorial....I thought for a second that that was...was something else." His laugh went slightly hysterical. "And here I thought—I went stupid for a second there. You rubbed off on me."

Ash tried to glare but couldn't. He was too relieved to feel angry.

But then their fears returned:

 _**Ash Ketchum, you have been selected to test an experimental program. In time we will have you fully informed of this ground-breaking product. Unfortunately, we can not allow you to know about the contents wholly until a later date. We apologize for the inconvenience. Thank you again for this service.** _

The monitor went black. Not a second after that, the screen turned a blinding white, and suddenly, sitting in Ash's lap, innocently and with a fresh new tint, was a Poke Ball.

  
**♫♪♫♪♫**   



	2. Operetta No. 1: OVERTURE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which something that proves the title correct pops up.

**OVERTURE**

 **♫♪♫♪♫**

 

Gary was not one for tantrums, nor was he one to be noisy and attract unwanted attention. He was not at all the type that blundered along blindly as though he were a rhino stomping through a house made of glass. No, as he would undoubtedly and repeatedly tell anyone that would listen, that was Ash's _modus operandi_.

He was patient and cunning, ambitious and manipulative, and quite a bit evil when he needed to be—but he was _never_ loud about it. He could, unlike a certain someone, be obnoxious without overdoing it. He knew when to pull at the strings and when to let them lie loose—he was the ultimate puppet master, and he was _never_ going to play Pinocchio if he could ever help it.

Never again.

 **♫♪♫♪♫**

But after months of waiting, weeks of anticipation, thousands upon _thousands_ of seconds of holding back his true wrath from Ashy-boy and the whole of Pallet for his chance to get his very own Poke Ball, he was not at all happy with the other Poke Ball lying innocently in said idiot-boy's lap. Not at _all_.

The anger was overwhelming, instantaneous and merciless. Like a whip his arm snapped out and grabbed the Poke Ball before Ash could so much as blink. He inspected it, noted the fresh-out-of-the-box appearance, and began to press the buttons, to see what the little turd had been given, to see if it was better than his own, to see if Ashy-boy had finally gotten something that was beyond his own means.

Ash finally looked up when the start-up music played.

"H-Hey! W-What are you doing with...with my—my stuff?" he stammered. He still looked as shaken as Gary felt.

"Shut _up!_ " Gary shouted. He didn't look at Ash. At that moment everything—Heaven, Hell, existence itself—was centered on the one thing that could mark a boy as special. Again, the words rang out in mind: _Ash Ketchum, you have been selected...._ Not Gary Oak. Ash Ketchum.

 ** _Hello, Ash!_** said the screen. **_Welcome to the World of Pokemon! This tutorial will guide you through the basic steps so that you too can own and care for your very own Pokemon!_**

Gary observed the words with suspicion. Had his own introduction been like this? He couldn't remember that well.

 **_To begin, please register your location._ **

"What's it saying? What's it saying?" Ash was at his back, jumping to see over his shoulder. "C'mon—that's my Poke Ball and I want it back _now!_ "

Gary ignored him, rounding his shoulders and gritting his teeth. Right now, the only thing that was important was seeing what was so... _special_ about this particular Poke Ball; why was it so important that it warranted immediate transport? His curiosity was piqued, as was his envy.

And that was when his thoughts stopped at a dead end: He was _envious_ —of _Ash_. That was wrong. Completely wrong. He was the wealthiest, smartest kid in Pallet, and the only time he was jealous?—He was jealous of the stupidest, poorest kid with no father. And the kid in question preferred the company of tall trees and dirt.

Oh, how far he'd fallen.

He typed in the characters while glaring at Ash: P—A—L—L—E—T.

 ** _Currently synching your area with the Pokemon World; please wait._** Underneath the words was a scene that would fit in with a children's story book: a brightly-colored forest with all sorts of Pokemon running around the undergrowth. Gary guessed it was a picture taken of the Viridian Forest, only with an added pallet of colors and, of course, Pokemon.

" _Gary!_ "

 

" _Wait!_ " Gary snapped, rounding on Ash. Little Ashy-boy immediately hushed up. "It's loading," Gary said in a quieter voice. "Just wait."

  
"...What did it...what did it mean?" asked Ash hesitantly. His mouth was twisted in a sort of grimace. From where he was standing Gary couldn't see his eyes.

Not that Gary wanted to. Refusing to look at Ash, he said, "I don't know. Maybe it's just, like, some patch, or, or something. To fix a bug...a glitch in the software. These kinds of things happen a lot....I don't know."

They were both freaked out, Gary knew, and at that moment he had to do something, or find something, that would make things turn to sense. But how to proceed? The Poke Ball was acting like a normal one. The only thing that had been out of the ordinary was the method of delivery.

This sucks, thought Gary. Here he had to act like he knew what was going on when he obviously didn't. He suddenly hated being the older one. It was a freakin' pain in the—

"'Ash,'" said Ash. He was by Gary's side, somehow managing to sneak pass his guard. "It said my name...."

Gary jumped a little when he saw him. "—the hell you— _how_ —"

"I don't remember the Pokemon site ever saying your name," said Ash thoughtfully, giving Gary a look. "Typing in your name's a required field or something, right? So why's it saying my name _now_ when we got your Poke Ball and it never said anything _then?_ "

Gary frowned. "You freak me out sometimes."

Ash frowned right back at him. "You hit me sometimes. Doesn't me you do it all the time."

"Don't try to sound smart, Ashy-boy," Gary sneered. "You only sound really stupid."

"Well," Ash ground out between clenched teeth, "don't try to act smart, Gare-bear."

The smirk that had been on Gary's face instantly dropped away. Ash looked on with a triumphant smile.

" _Who the hell told you about that?_ " Gary snarled, his face draining of color.

" _Your mom!_ "

Without another word the two crashed into each other and began to wrestle on the floor, pushing and shoving and punching, trying to get a good hold on the other. Although Ash had the advantage of adrenaline at first—he could squirm and dodge quicker—Gary easily put his extra height and weight—and sudden hatred and envy—to good use. By the time they were done fighting, Gary had Ash in a choke-hold and both were panting and sweating from exertion.

"What—did—you—say—?" Gary nearly screamed.

"Yer... _mom_...." Ash managed to squeeze out.

" _Say it again!_ "

"I won't...."

There was a soft knock at the door, and then it slowly opened.

"...Ash?" asked Gary's grandmother, who was standing in the door frame. "Gary?...What are you two...doing...?"

" _Him!_ " they yelled in unison, pointing at one another.

There was a pause that was only filled with the two boys' panting.

"Oh my," she breathed, placing a hand on her mouth. "Well, I, I don't think that...this is entirely, entirely— _appropriate_ —"

Upon hearing his grandmother's words, Gary immediately dropped Ash's head to the floor. His cheeks grew fuzzy and warm, and he shouted with a cracking voice, "We—we weren't doing— _th-that!_ "

From where his face was kissing the floor, Ash murmured, "What're we doin' again?"

"Shut it, Ash," Gary hissed before rounding on his grandmother. "Wh-whatever you were just thinking, we weren't doing it, okay? We just had a, an incident, is all. Fighting. Punching and kicking—like that."

It was that _look_ upon his grandmother's face that made Gary glad Ash couldn't see her from his position. Hell, he knew what they'd been doing all along and even _he_ was starting to wonder about himself. Not that he was that way, of course. Because he _wasn't_. No. Never.

"A-All righty, then..." she said in a quiet, but curious, voice. "Well, if y-you're sure. I came up here to...." She seemed lost for a second, but she easily snapped back when Gary coughed a little, like how he always had to when she got like that. "...Oh, yes, Ash's mother is here to pick him up."

Ash's body jolted to a sitting position. "What do you mean, Mrs. Oak, about my mom? Why's she picking me up?"

"She said it had to do with your new school. About...." She trailed off. The glazed look was returning. "...What was I saying...?"

"About Ash's new school," Gary said in a gentle voice. He glared at Ash to keep him from laughing; for his part, Ash did nothing but stare steadily back without even a single twitch coming from his mouth. "You were saying his mother is picking him up, and then something about his new school...?"

His grandmother bonked a fist against her open palm. "Yes! Oh, thank you, I'm so forgetful—Yes, Ash, dear, your mother was saying how these special things, text books and other things, just came in through the mail. And something about a rule book as well. She wants you to see it right now, I'm afraid."

Ash broke into a grin, which Gary was thankful for. His grandmother liked seeing kids smile, and ever since his growth spurt Gary hadn't looked younger than sixteen. Ash's usually annoying babyface was a godsend right then.

"Thanks, Mrs. Oak, I'll go see her." With an irritated look at Gary—"You've got some explaining to do later" his eyes seemed to say—Ash grabbed his Poke Ball off the floor, and with a hurried good-bye thrown in his direction, followed Gary's grandmother down the stairs.

Once he heard the door open and close downstairs, and once he was sure Ash and his grandmother were out of earshot, Gary laid himself down on the bed and muttered a few choice curses he had forgotten to use on Ash during their fight.

"What the hell was that...?" he asked the empty air.

 **♫♪♫♪♫**

"Are you okay?" Ash's mom asked him as they walked back home.

Ash unconsciously rubbed the soon-to-be-purple bruise on his cheek, holding back a pained sound when he found that, indeed, it was painful to touch. He had to remember to pay Gary back for it with a twin or, at the very least, a little brother.

"It's nothing," he mumbled, not looking at his mom's face. Everything would be given away if she saw it; she often said he was easy to read, like a kind of poorly-written mystery novel. Gary often said he was written like a porn comic, with all the ugly-looking bits being shown when nobody wanted to see them.

"Are you sure?" she asked, poking her head a little closer. "That doesn't look too good."

"Yeah, I'm fine, Mom."

She didn't look convinced, but when she saw his stubborn expression she gave up with a sigh. "Well, anyway," she said, her voice becoming excited and chipper, "I just got some mail from your school today! More like a package, actually, but it still counts as mail! There's some text books, a few official ties and shoe laces—"

"They have official shoe laces?" asked Ash skeptically.

"Yep, and shoes, too, and hair bands, and even bracelets! Anyway, there's a lot of cool things in that box that you should check out." She smiled brilliantly at him. "They even sent you something really incredible! I don't think you'll believe it until you see it!"

Her enthusiasm was contagious despite his sour mood; Ash looked up curiously and asked, "What is it?"

"Oh, you'll have to wait 'til we get back to the house." She winked.

Since the journey home was less than fifteen minutes long, Ash let himself be calmed by his mother's voice as she made chit-chat about the new things in his room.

 **♫♪♫♪♫**

Gary's grandfather knocked on the open door, asking, "Am I allowed to come in?"

Gary was laying on the bed with his arms beneath his head. Without looking up, he said, "Yeah, you can."

His grandfather quietly shut the door behind him and sat himself down on the chair in front of the desk. Silence followed; when nothing continued to happen, Gary looked up to find his grandfather perusing his Pokemon magazines, humming a rhythmless tune. Gary instantly sat up.

"What are you doing?" he asked in an annoyed voice.

His grandfather didn't look at him. Instead, he continued to read the magazine at a lazy pace.

"Seriously, Gramps, what are you doing?"

A flipped page was his reply.

"What, are you gonna ignore me?"

His grandfather looked up, finally. "I think I've got a poem for you."

Gary slapped a hand to his forehead. "Look, Gramps, don't tell me it's one of those—"

Without warning, his grandfather bellowed, "A tale of fire, _passionate!_ —And yet it dies with the coming fall." He removed the hand splayed dramatically on his forehead and took his foot off the desk. "How was it?"

"... _Why?_ " Gary asked, shaking his head. "What does that even _mean?_ "

His grandfather smiled. "I think you do."

"No. I don't."

He put a hand on Gary's shoulder. "Yes, you do."

"No, I _don't_ ," said Gary stubbornly.

His grandfather laughed, wiped his eye, and stood.

"Well, I expect that you will, one day soon," he said with a wink. He turned to leave, but stopped just before he left the room completely. "Also, Gary: Would you tell Ash that when he comes home for vacation, he's welcome to visit us any time? Of course, since I'm aging rather _un_ gracefully, I don't think I'll be able to tell him this myself; won't you be a good grandson and run on off to his house for me?" He smiled and left.

Gary flopped onto his bed and groaned.

"Very subtle, Gramps," he muttered. "Very freakin' subtle."

 **♫♪♫♪♫**

Ash gaped, his tongue hanging out. His mom was nice enough to push it back into his mouth for him.

"Isn't it so nice?" she asked.

Ash nodded weakly. Very, very weakly.

"Hm, I wonder if it comes with a user manual? It seems like it needs a bit of polishing." She produced a poor excuse about searching the box downstairs for the manual, though they both knew it was really just her way of giving her son some time to adjust with the...er, new _guest_ sitting on the bed.

She left, and Ash felt his brain click back on when the door closed.

"I-It's a-a-a P-Pikach-chu..." he choked out. "B-But...b-but... _h-how_...?"

It was a robot, with tinted metal skin and glowing black eyes, and not-quite-round characteristics; its head and body were rife with almost invisible screws and lines that indicated its man-made nature. Ash could remember from the various quizzes that Gary had given him before that Pikachu was supposed to be based on rats—but this Pikachu....While it had rodent-like features—a small, seemingly wet nose, stringy paws, clear, translucent whiskers—it seemed to have an air about it that suggested something much more sentient, something much more intelligent, something much more...ambitious. It was a robot, yet it seemed _alive_.

What were Pikachu known for again? Ash wondered. After a moment, he quickly wised up and jumped as far away from it as he could.

Electric attacks!—That was it, electric attacks, ones that he knew would hurt a _lot_ if he ever got hit by them. Oh God, why was it here in his home? What school sent a _Pokemon robot_ —no, a _perfect living replica_ of a Pokemon—to one of its students?

But before he could start thinking of a reason, or before he could start screaming bloody murder, the Pikachu's eyes suddenly widened, brightened, and narrowed as they peered around the box it was sitting next to. They caught his and wouldn't let go.

Ash swallowed.

 

♫♪♫♪♫

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very mature, Ash. You guys know what I'm talkin' about.
> 
> How does Ash know it's a robot right off the bat? Because Gary has a bunch in his room, little remote controlled ones that he bought from a Pokemon website.

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably the most normal chapter I will ever write.
> 
> Beware.


End file.
